Lifeline
by Equal Eloquence
Summary: "Damaged goods? Sure, you are dinged up and a dented, Jane, but you out of anyone has every right to be that way. Damaged goods is a little much. And moving on doesn't mean leaving everything in your past in a dusty corner somewhere, Jane." Her voice was as soft as cotton. "And someone would be willing to wait for you..." Based on season 3, if Grace had married Craig.


LIFELINE

1,368 WORDS

–

"Where is the server with the booze?" Lisbon asked grumpily, pushing herself through the throngs of people dancing on the wooden dance floor. "There has to be booze here, right?"

He couldn't help but smile at her as he followed her through the crowd, watching her shoulder blades tense as she hunched through and finally managed to find the tables with the hors d'oeuvres, and, off to the right-hand side, the bubbly wine.

"Oh! Thank God!" she breathed, walking up briskly, bypassing the canape and snatching up a flute. "Fruit of the Gods, grapes."

He placed a hand on her waist; a gentle pressure that she felt from the tip of her toes to the top of her elegantly styled head. She took a sip of the wine and reached for another, turning to hand it to him.

"You need to stop being wound so tightly, Teresa," he whispered, taking a sip of the wine she procured for him and setting it back down on the table beside her. "I know you are rather grumpy about having to dress up in this," he nodded toward her dress, "but it is very beautiful on you."

"You know what?" replied Lisbon, taking another sip of her wine. "You are the one who told Van Pelt I wanted to secretly be a bridesmaid! You are just lucky there is no place for my gun!" She looked down at her cleavage and her eyes drifted back up to meet his. "No place inconspicuous," she added.

"You secretly wanted this, Teresa," Jane said smilingly. "Admit it. I only told Grace the truth and you are just upset that you didn't beat me to the punch."

"Punch..." she trailed off. "Sounds like a word I feel like acting out right now."

He sighed, reaching for her wine glass and sitting it next to his on the table. He leaned in close and moved his hands from her waist to her shoulders, positioning them so that his thumbs lazily drifted against the skin of her throat column. She had trouble concentrating on what he was saying to her, her mind flicking to the delicate touches across her skin.

"You have to have some fun in your life, Lisbon," he was telling her when she finally connected his mouth with actual speaking. "Besides, you happen to be the most beautiful woman in this reception." He glanced back over his shoulder and back at her. "Don't tell Grace I said that. Besides, you did ask me to be your date. An invitation I certainly couldn't refuse."

She smiled at that and she could feel her cheeks reddening. She saw a grand smile unfurl across his face, too; one that told her to relax and to have fun. He was right, of course. She had asked him to be her date. It was just as she was leaving for the night a few weeks ago. She hadn't planned on asking him, but he had caught her in the small CBI kitchenette and asked her if she was going with anyone. Deciding she couldn't lie to the Mentalist, she had told him the truth and had assured him she'd cut out before the reception. He told her politely that it was rather rude to do, and he said he was going solo, but he'd see her there. Though, looking back on it, he looked like he was about to say something else before he turned around to walk out of the kitchen. That is when she had asked him very softly if he'd like to be her date. Just, as she had put it, as friends who wanted to support their colleague and friends. He had turned back to her and had smiled, telling her that he'd see her at the alter. She had shaken her head at him as he laughed, turning back around and walking back to his couch.

"Yeah," she told him, a crooked smile on her face. "Well, you aren't standing in a dress that gives Barbie a run for her fake, plastic-bodied money."

"I know what will cheer you up," he told her, dropping his hands from her shoulders and grabbing her hand. "A dance?"

"With you?" she asked, her cheeks reddening deeper into the crimson shades. "Are you sure?"

He pulled her by the hand as a new song started up; a slow, yet rhythmic song that all the couples in the room were getting close for as the first beats echoed through the tented ballroom. He led her to the middle, placing a hand on her back and moving her against him as his other hand grasped hers. She wrapped her hands around his neck, feeling their two bodies move in the slow harmony.

"That could be you someday, Lisbon," he whispered in her ear as they continued to move.

"What?"

"To our immediate right," he told her softly, turning their bodies so Lisbon could see over his shoulder.

She turned to see that Grace and Craig were dancing softly, drifting along as if nobody but each other was swaying. They were in their own world, and Craig had reached down to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"I don't think so," she told Jane, watching them drift aimlessly.

"Why not?" he asked. "You could be happy."

She sighed. "I am married to my job, Jane. Plus, in order to get married you have to have a life and actually find a man."

He didn't speak for the longest time. "Well, you could divorce your job, start a new life with the same name and I know you can find a guy who will treat you right, Teresa." He cleared his throat. "I would see to that fact."

"What about you?" asked Lisbon. "What about your happiness? Your life? Moving on?"

"Well," he replied, thinking about it. "I guess nobody wants damaged goods. And I don't even think I can move on, Teresa. I've tried, believe me."

She pulled her head off his shoulder and frowned. "Damaged goods? Sure, you are dinged up and a dented, Jane, but you out of anyone has every right to be that way. Damaged goods is a little much. And moving on doesn't mean leaving everything in your past in a dusty corner somewhere, Jane." Her voice was as soft as cotton. "And someone would be willing to wait for you to make the decision to move on. They'd wait for however long it took if they really cared about you."

"They'd be waiting a long, long time then, Teresa," he commented in a whisper.

"I'd wait." As soon it was out of her mouth she knew she couldn't take it back. "I mean..."

They were both silent as the song finished. They didn't step away from each other. Instead, Jane held her tighter against him, allowing the song to melt into another, swaying her to and fro to the soft beat.

"I'd wait for you, too, if the roles were reversed," he finally said. "If I wasn't so damaged."

"Nobody is better off alone, Jane," she told him, her voice muffled against his tux lapel.

"I'm not alone," he assured her, stroking the back of her satin pink dress. "At least, not in a sense. I have a family."

"Oh?"

"Of course!" He laughed gently. "I have you. I have the CBI. Without you, I'd be either back at the hospital with Sophie or more than likely dead." He slid his hand up to the base of her neck. "You're my lifeline." He placed his forehead against hers when she pulled back to look up at him. "A crease in the all the bad that swallows me and brings me to the good."

She was struck silent at his words. They didn't speak for the rest of the dance, and when it was over, they walked back through the throngs of people and disappeared. She wouldn't forget his words. Not for a long time. _Lifeline_. That is what she thought of him as, too.

A _lifeline_.

Songs they danced to:

Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton

When You Say Nothing At All (Alison Krause version (but Ronan Keating is okay, too)


End file.
